


Ironclad Heart

by XtaticPearl



Series: A Million Dreams - My Fairytale Bingo Collection [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Dancing, Epic Friendship, Fairy Tale Curses, Humor, M/M, Magic, Slow Burn, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 02:12:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14149689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtaticPearl/pseuds/XtaticPearl
Summary: Anthony gets trapped in a mysterious castle, under its strange knight guard's control, when he has to choose between his own freedom and that of his friends. Stuck in a place where stories are hidden in talking objects and cursed histories, Anthony must learn the true identity of the knight who stays in the abandoned place, and why he seems to be frozen in a hidden past in some ways. As a free captor and his tight-lipped guard slowly break their barriers, time is speeding towards a season of trials that will change all lives they touch.





	Ironclad Heart

"Would it kill you," Lady Janet huffed as she bit off the thread, peering at the patched space of her skirt before dropping it, "would it absolutely kill you to set out on these adventures during more pleasant times? When the sun isn't boiling my skin into blisters or the air isn't swirling heat? Would it, Anthony?"

"It probably would," Hank, her husband, remarked with a hint of humour as he sealed the last pitcher of water, "You never know. A lot of things tend to kill him."

Janet narrowed her eyes but shrugged a shoulder as she shot her best friend a mock-glare, least impressed by the unashamed grin he shot her back.

"As much as it pains me to admit, the good physician isn't wrong," Anthony replied, mischief in striking blue eyes and a disobedient lock of hair resting on his forehead to give him the aura of the charmingly rogue. Leaning against the door of their carriage, he looked like trouble, draped in dark colours and clothes cut too close to skin. Back in his land, where he had left more broken hearts sighing over destiny and less hope for a cease of adventure, Anthony was as much Janet's twin in outrageousness as in defiance of the proper. Where she had eloped with a Hank, the apprentice of her father and a man in no way close to her nobility or status, Anthony had dropped his crown on his ex-paramour and most trusted ally's head. The fact that Virginia, or Pepper as her friends knew her, was a woman made quite a hue and cry among the council but Anthony had never considered them as loyal to good thought as they were to quick power. 

Besides, he was more suited to a life of creation and there was no doubt in his mind that Pepper would hold the throne's honour far better than he could ever had. 

"You live to seek trouble, so yes, it isn't quite surprising," Janet quipped, breaking the reverie, and Anthony accepted that point as fair, "I still wish we could do this some other time, though."

"If only time was in abundance," Anthony mused, unrestrained and casual, but his companions stilled briefly. Hank recovered first but Anthony could see the tightness in the man's shoulders as he took time packing their carriage again. Jan looked chastised and Anthony hated that but then her face cleared with an exasperated fondness. 

"Well, we would get to our destination quicker if you didn't insist on changing directions to suit your discoveries," the petite woman declared, her yellow dress now bearing a pair of impressive black wings sewn in pattern, a remedy after Jan had torn her skirt on a rough edge of her carriage. "Honestly, Tony," she continued, walking towards the carriage to get back in, "do let us rest the night in actual beds this time, would you?"

"Yes," Hank chimed in, an amused look on his face as he threw Tony a pouch of water, "a bed would be most preferable, my lord."

"I get respect only in jest," Tony sighed dramatically and walked around the carriage towards his own horse, bringing up both hands to hold Jarvis’ face when he was greeted with a snort.

Tony’s father had built much in his time but quite few things were tokens of affection for his son. However, he had been the reason that Tony had met Edwin, Howard’s favorite steed, and then Edwin’s colt - Jarvis. A bay welsh pony stallion with judgemental blue eyes now, Jarvis had been Tony’s friend in his adolescence, both learning to run wild together. He hadn’t been considered worthy of being in the king’s selection but Tony had been there when the foal had been revealed for the first time, a quiet little thing that was called cursed for the ‘unnatural’ eyes. They were not worthy of trust, his uncle Stane had commented loudly, and King Howard had been uncaring of where they let the foal be. Jan would bear an amused witness if asked to recall how a determined teen prince with a slipping crown had all but barricaded the stable-master from taking the foal away. It had been that day and it was this, a journey of every single adventure Tony had been through on Jarvis’ back. 

“What? Hmm?” Tony ran a soothing hand over Jarvis’ neck, “Are you bored?”

The horse blinked away from Tony and he grinned.

“Oh don’t be like that, J,” he coaxed, the sleeves of his ruby hued coat brushing against Jarvis’ face, rolling his eyes when the horse rubbed its face against the cloth, “Alright, alright, that’s enough. I promise, we’ll find a place to halt the night and try to get you some of your favourite apples, okay? Will that win me some appreciation back?”

“A decent halt might win you Hank’s,” Jan called out from her carriage and Tony chuckled at her expression even as Hank made a face.

They were to reach the Triskelion village for the merchants; fair where Hank and Tony were to meet Sir Richards, a fantastic man of science who was rumoured to hold theories that would lay foundation to a future all great men visualized. Tony had known about him from Lady Jane, a fellow seeker of science’s answers and pioneer in astronomy. If they travelled at the current pace, they would reach the place by a noon and night. 

As they passed through the dense shortcut that Hank had insisted on, a stubbornness Tony couldn’t deny for impatience of his own, the once prince of Alcatraz absently wondered about the life he had left behind in haste. Pepper, as Virginia would always be to him, had been displeased to know of him leaving but had wished him safety and health. Their courtship had been wonderful while it lasted and if he closed his eyes now, he could see how they had tried to make their split amicable too. It had been so, he was sure that everybody would agree, but there was still a motley of scars in his heart; none blaming her or wishing her to change her will but rather wishing he knew the purpose of his destiny if not meant with those he wished by his side. Rhodes, his dearest friend and a knight now, had always told Tony to be more of what he was and not what he thought the world saw him as. It had been a lingering tune in most of their bickering and Tony loved Rhodey dearly but didn’t see why the man saw the weight of gold in the weight of iron that Tony knew he was. Made to be bent and sharpened to be a weapon, a means of fighting or duller concepts at most. 

It was dismaying to be liked, Tony thought on an amused huff and lingered his gaze on the passing trees that stood wrapped in weed and vines. 

The journey went smooth till they reached a fork road and both the sole horse and carriage stopped.

“This is nice,” Jan cut through the argument that was running Tony and Hank in circles, “No, truly, this is nice. Entertaining. Better than the banter of the last ball we attended.”

“Jan -”

“But you know what this is  _ not _ ?” Jan continued, uncaring of the interruption, eyes shifting sharp between her husband and friend, “Productive. This is not productive or helpful, and certainly not useful to a headache I can feel brewing now.”

“If we take the right, we’d reach the highway sooner,” Hank insisted and eyed Tony like he was a particularly terrible species of ant, insistent on building his anthill in the middle of Hank’s path, “With some effort we’d be able to find an inn to rest the night.”

“That path does not look travelled by people, Hank,” Tony said pointedly, his red riding glove catching moonlight when he gestured, “We take the left and we’ll find a better road.”

“How about,” Jan raised both palms, stopping the men for a minute, “you pick a coin from your purse and we flip for our path?”

Tony eyed Hank before shrugging in acceptance, reaching into his tied up pouch to pick a coin. It looked dull in the darkness but when shifted into the tendrils of moonlight escaping the trees, it glinted gold.

“Crest,” Hank called and Tony shot him a sure grin before he flipped the coin into the air, a sharp ping of nail hitting metal mildly echoing till it came back to land in his waiting palm.

“Let’s see what our destiny says,” Tony extended his closed fist, holding the fated coin, and revealed the decision. 

\----

There were no stray stragglers that night, he surmised with mild boredom as he eyed the cleverly hidden pathway from his post. It wasn’t a usual problem, sleeplessness when the moon shone bright in the sky, but there was some lingering wakefulness in him this time, no purpose to it but the need to see through to a limit. 

“You need to pick up your trinkets from my nest,” a voice said, exasperated but firm, and Clint felt a tinge of amusement as he ignored turning around. He had expected this but perhaps a bit later, the next morning maybe. He wasn’t complaining though.

“I mean it this time,” Sam repeated, landing near Clint, the flash of blue and steel visible from a quick glance, “I understand that I cannot stop you from thieving -”

“Borrowing,” Clint corrected but was soundly ignored.

“- but you cannot store candlesticks in my nest, Hawk,” Sam finished, a long repeated argument running its course. Clint restrained an amused sound as he imagined the infuriated yet calm expression of Vision when he would find out about the missing stick.

“He needs to lighten up,” Clint said casually and Sam groaned at the terrible pun, “It was a valid and appropriate joke!”

“You  _ know _ that he’s going to not appreciate it,” Sam pointed out but Clint knew him well enough to note the amusement in tone, “Besides, I’m not sure if May would appreciate it either. You know how she hates rooting around for candlesticks every time.”

“Maybe,” Clint replied seriously and ducked when Sam pecked him in admonishment for the joke, “Fine, fine, you sourpuss, I’ll keep it back by dawn. Not that there are any chances of our ever awake Vision melting anytime soon.”

Sam didn’t comment on that and Clint went back to staring at the road ahead of the castle. He felt Sam’s feathers shift, ruffling for a minute before settling down, and in a distance there were sounds of toads and crickets. 

“He’s in a mood today,” Sam said after a couple of moments and Clint wished he still had the muscles of a human face, just so he could grit his jaw more satisfyingly.

“Well, he seems to be in one for quite a while,” the hawk replied, archer’s eyes tracking imaginations in the open road, “Probably something to do with the way we’ve stopped trying altogether.”

“Clint -”

“I mean,” Clint spoke over Sam, not interested in chiding, “I presumed that we would try harder, with the season dwindling into winter soon, and the list you had shortened after the last attempt. But I guess it’s too hard to hope.”

“You know that’s unfair,” Sam replied, tired and practiced at this but the past few times he had done this, Clint had begun to hear the losing belief in his voice too, “This isn’t on Cap. It can’t be on him. There’s too much on him already and there is only so much he could take.”

“If he doesn’t try then you know what happens,” Clint said sharply and looked away from Sam’s piercing glance, “I don’t - we can’t simply wait for the end, Sam. That is not how we fight.”

“I think this stopped being a fight a while ago,” Sam said quietly and Clint wanted to rail, wanted to yell about it being unfair but he had learnt from the past attempts at those. There was nothing satisfying about the hawk’s cry. 

It had been a game at first, the fitting in and discoveries. The jokes and warmth stayed even after the castle fell cold, and Clint remembered them in those frames. They had become beasts, curses of nature, but they remained alive.

Till the freezing. Till the first fall. 

If he looked to his right, over the grounds, he would catch sight of Wanda’s statue and Clint hated his cowardice in ignoring it. 

He could only imagine how much the man living inside the castle hated himself for every step they had -

“Who’s that?”

Sam’s voice brought Clint back to present and he looked down towards the road. His sight caught the shadows of horses and they watched as a carriage and a solo rider came out from the dark.

“- definitely lost,” Clint could hear the man riding the carriage say, “I don’t know  _ why _ we took this -”

“We flipped for it,” the other man argued, stubborn insistence in tone, “And I think we’re doing fine. Look at that.”

“A castle in the middle of nowhere?” a female voice asked and Clint focused as a lady got out of the carriage, tipping her head up to stare at the castle better, “This seems - strange.”

“You’re married to stranger,” the man on a bay horse commented and Clint caught the lady hiding a grin even as her companion, husband maybe, shot the dark-haired rider a glare.

“Can we focus on the issue? What do we do now?” the lighter haired man asked, eyeing the castle and Clint felt his gaze settle on Sam and himself, “Oh. Oh, look, those birds…”

“Oh please don’t tell me you wish to adopt them, Pym,” the other man sighed before laughing at the expression Pym shot him, “Fine, fine, your bond with the fauna of all lands is beyond my understanding, but I would much prefer to find a human being to get a room and bed tonight.”

“I second the request for a bed,” the lady chimed in, walking towards the gate, “And maybe you can ask about adopting the birds too. I’m sure they’d love to chat.”

“I was not - oh fine,” Pym sighed as his companions showed no sign of listening. 

“Should we do something?” Sam asked, rhetoric and stunned, but Clint felt a long-lost fire of curiosity and excitement burn in his chest.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, “Get ready to have some guests.”

The dark haired man eyed the gate for a minute before pushing it with all his might and both Clint and Sam watched as he took the first step into the grounds no man had walked on for years. 

For a moment Clint’s eyes locked onto the gaze of Pym as he followed his wife but Clint knew that the man wouldn’t be able to see much.

After all, who suspected a bird to be more than just that?

  
  



End file.
